In Remembrance of Me
by snowsgirl
Summary: Lame title is lame.   Germany finds something he didn't even know he had in his basement. Um... that's what she said? I think.  GerIta.


Yeah yeah, lame title. But HOLY Rome, and Italy is Catholic so... boo. Whatever. Yup. So... read and review? I guess. I don't mind.

Also, don't like totally hate me for this. I mean, dude looks just like HRE. So what? Yeah, and then the fact that he's HRE is historically accurate. So shove it. Unless you believe it too... then I'm sorry for being so rude... I'll shut up so you can read.

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It had been a long time since Germany had enough time to clean out his basement. Sure, the rest of the house was absolutely spotless… when Italy wasn't there. But the basement was another story. It hadn't even been opened in a very, very long time.

Germany took a long sip of his beer, then sighed, and carried a box down the stairs into his basement. The place was a wreck and he knew it. It might be a long time before he finished. Certainly he'd have to stop before Italy showed up, or else things could get difficult.

He decided to take each corner separately, going over the centuries of collected dust in sections, and taking a short break in between.

The first section proved simple. Most things that had been stuck in that corner were from more recent times, and hadn't had as long to fall apart or magically disappear and reappear in strange places so he'd have to hunt for them before he could finish. All he'd had to do was go through a few boxes, packed neatly and sealed with a label and everything, see what was worth keeping, and proceed to the next box.

There wasn't much to get rid of. Germany only kept important things mostly, documents and papers with signatures and so on, a large number of which were no longer useful, but they were a part of his history, and his boss wouldn't allow him to toss them out even if he'd wanted to. There were some boxes filled with some old vinyl, however. He didn't listen to them anymore, and they were a pain to store, but he felt somewhat attached to them, and decided they might be worth it.

He moved to the next section. He was on a roll today. He didn't need a break.

Then something caught his eye. What was it? He put his hand out and pulled the sheet off of the single object. What was it?

It was old. Ancient, even.

It was a push broom, he realized. Funny, he didn't remember getting one. Or ever owning one, for that matter.

Germany figured he didn't need it. He had a better, newer broom. Besides, he didn't even know where it came from. It wasn't important. He picked it up, and turned to go back upstairs, when realization struck.

The years flooded back to him, and everything was perfectly vivid. He saw it all. It was a long time ago, wasn't it? Back then, he was the Holy Roman Empire. He had a nice place. There were always people over though… Austria… he'd been a nuisance even then. At least he'd pulled his own weight then.

There were lots of ordeals between him and his neighboring countries, particularly France and Spain, he remembered. Things hadn't changed much. Besides their appearances, anyway. Had he really worn a cape? No… it was a cloak, wasn't it? Whatever. It looked stupid.

There was a girl… who was she? He couldn't remember. He knew she was a servant of Austria's. He'd gotten the broom from her, he thought, when he'd left for the war. What was her name?

It seemed to be on the very tip of his tongue.

She was very petite and fragile. He'd embarrassed himself in front of her on numerous occasions; he almost blushed at the thought of _those_ encounters. She'd been afraid of him, hadn't she? He guessed he couldn't really blame her.

She wasn't very smart. He'd known that. But back then, he guessed he wasn't really either. He just didn't know it. She was artsy though. She could paint the most amazing things. Why couldn't he remember her if she was so important to him?

He'd loved her dearly. Germany remembered asking her to join him, but she'd said no… why did she say no?

Because of her grandfather. Her grandfather… he'd gotten too big, wasn't that it? His body was divided into lots of smaller sections. She'd said he was covered in scars when he passed on. She said she didn't want the same thing to happen to him. Her 'grandpa Rome.'

Germany only knew one 'Grandpa Rome,' and only one person who called him that.

Italy.

It was Italy all along. How could he have not realized that. He wanted to beat his head into the wall. How had he not known Italy was a boy then?

Germany felt his cheeks get hot. Remembering everything that had happened… he'd kissed Italy on his departure, too… Did Italy feel that way about him?

Did he still feel that way about Italy?

Yes, he decided. They'd been through far too much together for him to deny it. He'd always had a strong connection with him anyway.

He shook his head. He didn't want to think like that. It was wrong for him to love Italy, wasn't it? He was a man, after all. Would anyone else think bad of him if they got together like that? As a couple?

He didn't have time to think now. He heard the front door of his house thrown open, then slam shut again.

"Germany! Germany!" cried the familiar voice from upstairs. "Where are you?"

Then his head poked through the open basement door.

"Germany?" asked Italy, staring at him oddly, looking a little concerned. You would be worried too if your best friend was sitting somberly on the floor, not speaking at all even though you'd called their name several times.

Germany looked at the broom in his hand, then at Italy. He felt his temperature rise, and hoped to God he wasn't blushing so openly.

"Germany… is that…?" began Italy, then he trailed off. "…Holy Rome?"

He did remember.

"How could I have forgotten so much?" asked Germany. "I didn't even remember you. But I found this push broom. It was your gift to me before I left. I gave you a kiss and promised to return… I guess I never really did."

"You were Holy Rome all along?" Italy's eyes were actually open. And they were huge with surprise.

"I'm back now, Italy," was all Germany said. "I came back."

Italy smiled, eyes watering. "I know."

Germany stood, and set the broom back in the corner. He realized he didn't really remember how he got on the floor in the first place.

Italy gave the taller nation a big hug.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Never, Italy. I won't leave you again," said Germany, closing his eyes.

He had his memories back. He had his life back. He didn't know what he had been missing. Always moving forward, and never looking back. He saw it now.

All the centuries they'd had together, even before they'd realized who the other was really. He couldn't help but love him. He really had missed him.

That was the other thing he remembered. During the war. There was a word for it now: _einsamkeit—_loneliness. It was a dull and hollow pain he hadn't truly known for years, but the full prospect of missing someone important came back to him, and it hit him like suffocation. Subtly, but it hurt oh so much.

He didn't need to feel like that anymore. He _didn't_ feel that way anymore.

"Nein," he said, breaking the hug. "I won't leave you again."

That day, he had the biggest smile on his face that Italy had ever seen on his friend in centuries.


End file.
